The Night of the Missing Montague
by The Wild Wild Whovian
Summary: The final installment of the Florentine Phoenix trilogy. Jim and Artie answer an urgent summons to Denver: Prof Montague is missing! But why has someone kidnapped the Secret Service Academy's master gadgeteer, and what sort of nefarious plans might they have in mind for him?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Mr Blessing, Mr West and Mr Gordon are here."

"Ah, thank you, Thompson!" Warren Blessing sprang up from his chair and skirted his desk to greet his visitors warmly as his secretary Thompson made a discreet exit, closing the office door behind him.

"I'm glad you two could arrive so quickly, Jim, Artemus. You made good time to Denver," said the Director of Operations.

"We were already passing through Colorado on our way to San Francisco when we got word," said James West.

"Now what exactly happened?" asked his partner Artemus Gordon. "The message we got by telegraph was annoyingly brief!"

"All it told us was to report to you here at the Secret Service Academy, saying that Prof Montague is missing," added Jim.

"Yes, missing!" Artie chimed in. "But how could a thing like that happen? How does anyone misplace an entire scientist anyway? Was he kidnapped? Because he certainly isn't the type to just vanish of his own accord — or at least, I don't think he would," he added, remembering the professor's reputation for absent-mindedness.

"That's just it, Artemus: we don't know what happened. We don't know anything of what's become of the professor! He's been working on some new gadgets for the field agents…"

"As usual," put in Jim.

"Yes," Blessing nodded. "As well as training some of our more advanced students in the art of cryptography. He's been in a habit of staying quite late these past few weeks — but again, that's not unusual for him. It was three days ago that his students arrived for their morning class at nine o'clock and found his lab locked. While some of them came to inform me, a rather enterprising young fellow took the opportunity to hone his skills with a lock pick, and..." Blessing suddenly spread his hands and sighed.

"And found the lab was empty?"

"Exactly, Jim! No signs of a struggle, no clues that we could find — and believe me, we went over the place with a fine-toothed comb! — no note or message of any sort whatsoever. Just… no Montague!"

"And nothing was missing? Well, apart from Montague himself, that is," asked Artie.

Blessing shook his head. "No. Or should I say, there was nothing missing that any of us would have noticed. He may well have been working on some project that he was keeping under wraps — he often does that, you know, wanting to spring a new gadget on us as a surprise once it's ready. But if that were the case and such a project had vanished with him, we would hardly realize it."

"Hmm." Jim frowned and glanced at Artie. "Are you sure he was even in the lab that night?"

"Not entirely. Of course we did send a couple of men over to his home to see if he had perhaps fallen ill or some such thing."

"But he wasn't there either, huh?"

"Right, Artemus. No sign of him, no sign he had been at home that night at all."

"And he's been gone three days now."

"Yes." Blessing sagged into his chair, worry writ large across his face. "He's one of our best instructors, well versed in Academy protocol and methodology. He's also a brilliant scientist with the secrets to many inventions and chemical formulae buzzing around in his brain. Could he have been abducted for what he knows? Does his disappearance presage some dire disaster hanging over the collective heads of our nation? Where is he? What's become of him? Who has him, and why? And where do we even begin to look for him?"

Blessing leapt from his chair and began to pace. "Supposing, for example, that an agent of some foreign power has taken him in the hopes of extracting secrets of the workings of our own agents, or our equipment, or anything else of that sort! Prof Montague possesses a rather broad area of expertise, and while he has always striven to train our young men not to break under interrogation…" He shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not at all sure that he himself would be able to endure long under such unaccustomed stress!" The director's voice was rising higher and higher, a sure sign that he was himself drawing near to his breaking point.

The two agents exchanged glances, then moved to intercept the agitated man. "Mr Blessing, why don't come back to your desk and take a rest?" said Artie. "I'm sure you've had some very long nights with little sleep lately. Perhaps a brandy?" He settled Mr Blessing into his chair as Jim poured the drink and brought it over.

Shakily, Blessing lifted the glass to his lips. Then spilled it as a shrill whistle sounded from the speaking tube by his elbow. Suddenly furious, he snatched up the tube and demanded, "Thompson, I told you I was not to be disturbed while Mr West and Mr Gordon are here with me discussing the Montague case!"

Thompson's reply was so loud, everyone in the office heard it: "I'm sorry, sir, but the guard at the front desk just sent up word that there's a visitor for you, very urgent, and… Great Scott!"

A clatter echoed through the speaking tube, probably from it hitting the floor on the other end. For a startled moment no one moved. Then Jim took off, yanking open the door and racing down the hallway, Artie and Mr Blessing about half a second behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Astonishing… utterly astonishing!" said Director Blessing as he sat on a tall stool in the Academy's laboratory, a freshly poured brandy in his hand as he stared across the worktable at a little unassuming gray-haired man in a white lab coat sitting only a few feet away, also holding a glass of brandy.

Yes, the man himself! For when Jim, Artie, and Mr Blessing had come rushing down the hall to Thompson's desk just minutes before, they had found the nonplussed secretary fumbling the speaking tube back into its holder while Prof Montague stood by the desk, blinking in bewilderment at everybody.

Once they had all collected their individual jaws back up off the floor, the four men had escorted the professor into the familiar surroundings of his lab, ensconced him within his own chair, and proffered him a restorative.

"Ah, yes, yes, yes. I _could_ do with something medicinal indee… Oh, but dear me no, not _that_ one!" He waved his hands at Thompson. "No, no, put that one back! That's one of my experiments, you see."

"In a brandy bottle?" asked Artie.

"Why, yes! It's a new variety of knock-out drug, steeped in brandy to mask the flavor. One sip and _pow!_ You're out like a candle!" Montague grinned proudly.

Thompson set that bottle back hastily and found another of which the professor approved. And now, with both the director and the scientist supplied with libations, Jim West asked quietly, "Prof Montague, where have you been?"

Montague smiled as he looked around the room at all his usual everyday accoutrements. "Ah, there truly is no place like home!" he sighed happily. "That other laboratory wasn't nearly as well furnished as this, my own shop, you know. But then I suppose she didn't really need to provide me with so very much equipment, did she? Not with the single-minded project she insisted I undertake."

The words "Project!" "Other lab!" and "She!" sprang from various lips. "Prof Montague, what are you talking about?" said Jim, encapsulating all their questions. "Where is that other lab, what project were you made to work on, and above all, who is this 'she' you mentioned?"

"Although I suppose I really shouldn't have been so very surprised," the professor nattered on, "when my cabbie drove me, not to the restaurant I'd requested, but to another part of town entirely. Over by the railroad yards, I shouldn't wonder, judging by the amount of heavy wagons crowding the street. Oh, and warehouses. Lots of warehouses. One of them called…" He frowned in puzzlement. "Oh dear, I really should have written everything down. It was… some sort of geometrical shape, I'm sure of that. Ah… pentagon? Or no, not quite that: a pentagon with triangles attached — yes, that's more the ticket! You know what I mean, don't you?" He used a finger to trace a shape on the worktable before him.

"A star, you mean, Professor?"

"Yes, precisely, Artemus! Good lad! Oh, but what a mind like a sieve I have," Montague added, shaking his head ruefully. "Why, I fear I'd mislay my own head if it wasn't so firmly attached! But yes yes yes, that's positively correct: the Star Warehouse. That's where she took me." He beamed at them all.

"Star Warehouse," murmured Jim. "I've run across more than my share of those in this job."

"Must be a chain of 'em," added Artie. "But you say that's where she took you, Professor? Are you saying your cabbie was a woman?" He shot a glance at Jim; they both knew of a time not so very long ago when Prof Montague had set off in a cab only to find that its driver was in fact a woman in disguise — and for that matter, she too had spirited him away to a warehouse.

"Why, yes, of course that's what I'm saying!" exclaimed Montague, his eyebrows beetling. "Surely you understood that when I told you who had waylaid me!"

"But, Professor," put in Blessing, his voice cracking like his patience, "you haven't told us who waylaid you. You were abducted, that's plain, but who was the woman who kidnapped you?"

"Bosh! Of course I told you who she was! That lovely little, er… Oh, why is it I always seem to have such trouble with her name? Synonyms… synonyms for happy…" He snapped his fingers by his ear as if that would somehow improve his memory. "James, Artemus, you know of whom I speak!"

The two agents exchanged a glance. "We sure do!" exclaimed Artie unhappily.

"That's exactly who I was afraid of!" added Jim. "And at the Star Warehouse near the railroad yards?"

"Well, yes, but…" The professor found himself speaking to empty air, for Jim had yanked open the lab door and sprinted off. Grabbing Artie's arm before he too could race away, Montague said, "But she's not there anymore! She put me back in the cab and dropped me off here outside the Academy just now. I've no idea where she's going, but it certainly wasn't back to the warehouse!"

"Where who's going?" said Blessing sharply. "What is this all about? And what do synonyms for happy have to do with it?"

"That's, ah, the lady's name," Artie answered. "Well, I use the term 'lady' loosely; she's an erstwhile assassin turned international jewel thief, one who's given Jim and me the runaround on both the West and East coasts, and she happens to go by the name of Ecstasy La Joie."

Montague greeted that pronouncement with a gleeful clap of his hands. "Yes yes, that's it precisely! I don't understand why I always have such trouble remembering it, but that's her name: Ecstasy La Joie!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It was some three hours later that Jim turned up again, his teal bolero suit somewhat rumpled and dusty, his face smudged with dirt, and his mouth set in a firm line silently signaling great dissatisfaction.

"No luck, huh?" said Artie.

"That depends on what kind of luck you mean," Jim replied, his eyes sweeping around the lab which was, except for himself and his partner, apparently empty. "Where's the professor?"

"In there," said Artie with a nod of his head in the proper direction. "He talked at length after you took off — confirmed, of course, that his charming hostess for these past three days was indeed the lovely and talented Ecstasy La Joie — and then he started yawning, so we helped him into his office there. He's got a cot inside, probably for all those late nights of inventing, and…"

"And Blessing?" Jim interrupted.

"Went back to his own office along with Thompson. They had a number of telegrams to send off, as you might imagine."

"Including notifying all the major ports to be on the lookout for that insufferable woman?"

"Oh yes! Once Montague told us the project that our pretty little friend had him working on night and day from the time she snatched him, it wasn't hard to figure out what she planned to do with the thing once he was finished with it. Do you know, Jim, that Montague took a leaf from the Renaissance artist Michelangelo and made a very small symbol on the bottom of that little bauble? Not a very elaborate symbol, just something to sign the work as his, he said: a very small _M_ — for Montague, of course — scratched into the gold right next to the keyhole."

Jim cocked an eyebrow. "Then we _are_ talking about a certain object roughly the size of a grapefruit, and very, very expensive, right, Artie?"

"Well… it would be more expensive if it were the real thing, y'know."

"Or if you could convince the buyer it was the real thing," Jim replied. He shook his head, anger still etched in the lines of his face. "As I implied, I didn't exactly have no luck at the warehouse. Ecstasy was long gone, of course."

"Naturally," Artie nodded.

"And she'd done a pretty thorough job of hiding the fact that anyone had been there. Except for two things."

"Ah?" Artie reached out and picked a length of cobweb off the shoulder of Jim's jacket. "She invited the spiders back in, I see."

Jim almost smiled. "She didn't even evict them in the first place — except for one small room tucked away in the least accessible corner of the place. That room was spotless: no dust, no cobwebs, no mess left behind at all."

"But no clues left behind either, no doubt," said Artie, frustration in his voice.

"Actually, that's not completely true. She _did_ leave a clue behind. She left this." From a pocket Jim produced a small envelope and handed it to his partner.

Artie glanced at the two words inscribed across the front of the envelope in a precise and elegant hand: _Enemies Forever_. He chuckled as he flipped the letter over and opened the flap, then paused to inhale. "Oh, that's an impressively expensive fragrance she dabbed onto this note!" he exclaimed. "Patchouli, you think?"

"Just read it, Artie."

Artie snickered, extracted the note and, tossing the envelope aside onto the table beside him, he read:

 _I trust you have received back in good working condition one Professor Montague, and I've no doubt you've rushed here in the hopes of apprehending me. Too late, of course._ Adieu _, Jim. Always lovely crossing swords with you. (We should try that for real some time!)_

 _Ever yours,_

 _Ecstasy_

Artie snorted. "Nice! She's a real sweetheart, that girl!"

"There's a postscript," Jim prompted.

"Oh?" Artie glanced over the sheet of paper, frowned, and scrutinized it more closely. "You sure about that?"

"It's in the envelope." Jim picked it up from the top of the worktable where Artie had discarded it, and pointed inside.

Artie peered at it, then shot an annoyed glance at his partner. "How did you ever notice there was writing in here, Jim? Why did you even think to look?"

Jim shrugged. "Where Ecstasy La Joie is involved, it's always wise to expect the unexpected."

"Hmm. Touché." He squinted at the miniscule writing in the envelope, then carried it over to a lamp for a better look. " 'The… stars… are, uh… bright in… Texas'? That means something?"

"It did in that warehouse. As I had entered, I passed a large map of the Union on the wall, along with a set of pigeonholes, each one labeled with the name of one of the states. I went back there and found that set of pigeonholes corresponded only to the New England states, so then I set out searching for more pigeonholes. I found a set for the Midwestern states, the West coast, the various territories."

"But not the South?"

"Not for a while. After all, she wouldn't want to make this _too_ easy, now would she?"

"Not if she's keeping you busy while she makes her getaway, no!"

"When I at last located the pigeonholes labeled for the Southern states, I found that the section marked Texas was the largest one of all — and of course it was chock-full of junk. The first thing I pulled out of it was a mousetrap, all set and ready to snap shut."

"Just to set the tone, no doubt," said Artie with disgust.

"Yes, a reminder to keep on my guard."

"Did it get you?"

"No, but not for want of trying. After that I found a piece of wood to rake the stuff out of the pigeonhole. Lots of paper, which of course I needed to look over in case those might be decorated with the stars she'd mentioned."

"Ugh, sounds like it would take hours!"

"Well, it did — or at least a couple of them. But at last, far down in the pigeonhole hiding in the dark, I pulled out this." Jim reached into another pocket and produced an odd little object and handed it over to Artie, whose face lit up as he took it.

"Hey, it's one of those puzzle games! The pieces fit together tightly, and it only opens one way. You have to figure out the trick to get it open. Say, if Prof Montague was awake, he'd just love getting a crack at this thing!" He half-turned toward the office door, but Jim forestalled him.

"Let him sleep; he can play with it later if he really wants to. Right now, _you_ get to knock yourself out with it."

"Aw, thanks, Jim! You know how much I like puzzles!" He turned it over in his hands, admiring the workmanship of the polished wood of the puzzle. It consisted of a dozen dowels, all of them about four inches long and hexagonal in cross section, interwoven and interlocked into a three dimensional star. Artie rotated the star in his hand, tugging gently at one dowel and then another, trying to see how the pieces fit together.

And then he stopped and shot Jim a look. "Wait a minute: knock myself out? Ecstasy was not very happy with me the last I saw of her, so that she used that knock-out ring of hers on me, and then there was that time when I attempted to use a knock-out bomb on _her_. So here, you open it, Jim. I'll pass!" He tossed the puzzle to his partner.

Who tossed it right back. "You worry too much, Artie. There's no knock-out bomb inside it."

"Yeah? And how do you know, huh?"

"Because I already opened it back at the warehouse. There's nothing inside it but a little… well, call it a souvenir. A little memento by which to remember the charming Miss La Joie."

"Oh, really?" Artie grumbled as he took up the puzzle again and set about finding the trick to open it. "What sort of a souvenir: something to bloody my ear for me? It couldn't be that lovely little ring of hers with the sting of a wasp to it; I couldn't get so lucky as to get that thing away from her so that she can never use it on me again!" Muttering and complaining, he continued tugging and twisting the puzzle until… "Aha!"

With a big smile he pulled two interlocked pieces out from the rest, at which point all the other pieces fell apart into a jumble. He laid the disassembled pieces on the worktable and fished out a tiny cloth pouch that had been concealed in the hollow center of the puzzle.

Artie glanced over at Jim, then upended the pouch and tipped its contents out onto his palm.

Ah. Very familiar. It was a tiny American flag, the blue field made of a group of miniature sapphires, the red and white stripes tiny rubies and pearls. Artie took it up and waved it back and forth, whistling _O, Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean._

"Exactly," said Jim. "The flag from the fake Florentine Phoenix that you and Prof Montague made a while back. You know what that means, of course."

"Well, sure I do!" said Artie. "The professor told us before he conked out. Well, not in much detail, of course — you know how hard it can be to keep him on subject sometimes."

"But he told you she had kidnapped him to make him fix the fake Phoenix for her."

"Right. Take out the music box mechanism and replicate the tinier phoenix inside so that it does exactly what the real Phoenix does."

"And you know what she'll do with it," said Jim.

"Well, yeah, that's why Mr Blessing was sending out those telegrams to the various ports. She wants to head for Germany to sell that overpriced toy to the head honcho over there, the man whose been moving heaven and earth to get his hands on the real Phoenix whether by hook or by crook! And of course our Miss La Joie has in mind to deal with him directly, completely bypassing Baron Hinterstoisser at the embassy in the process."

"Not surprising, considering how determined Hinterstoisser and his agents were to turn Ecstasy into mincemeat during our recent encounter with them all."

"Or _hasenpfeffer_ , right."

"But it isn't the brightest plan she's ever had, trying to pass off a fake for the real thing, no matter how good a fake it is."

"Well, Col Richmond has been informed of everything we know so far, and he'll brief the president. Other than that…" Artie spread his hands.

"All right," said Jim. "There's nothing more we need to do here, so let's go." He took up both the letter and the tiny flag and tucked them into his pocket, then grabbed his hat.

"Ok," said Artie and followed him out of the lab and down the hall. "So, ah… where are we going?"

Jim shot him an incredulous look. "What do you mean, where are we going? We're going to go find Ecstasy La Joie and stop her!"

"Well, yes, Jim, that much I understood. But where specifically? Which direction do we go: north, south, east, west? She's got a couple of hours head start on us by now, plus she knows the route she's planning to take, and we don't!"

"Doesn't matter. We've still got to get moving. We'll send a telegram to Washington telling them we're on our way."

"Right, right, but on our way _where_ , James?"

"Where else, Artie? The quickest way out of the country from Denver has got to be San Francisco. I'd bet my last dollar on it. And if that's where she's going, and if the colonel can pull a few strings and get us an express route to California, we could be there and waiting for her before her train gets in. So let's get moving." He reached the stairs and sped down them, taking two and three at a time.

Artie followed him, shaking his head. "If. That's the problem though. There's an awful lot of ifs involved in all of this, and the biggest one of all is _if_ we can anticipate what that little lady is gonna do. After all, when it all comes down to it, how does any man ever stop a woman from doing what she really wants to do — particularly a devious little thief like Ecstasy La Joie!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

If Jim had bet his last dollar on being able to catch Miss La Joie, he would have lost the bet. He and Artie spent three days combing the quays of San Francisco and finally had to admit defeat. But they weren't alone in their discomfiture, for every other agent assigned to every other port city also reported back with empty hands. From the moment the elusive thief had dropped off Prof Montague at the doors of the Secret Service Academy in Denver, she had in effect become a ghost. No one saw her anywhere; she had completely vanished.

Eventually the manhunt for Miss La Joie sputtered to a halt and the various agents were placed on new cases. Cautious inquiries were made in Europe concerning the possibility of a clandestine business transaction involving a certain high-ranking German and a specific famous antiquity, but if that transaction came to pass, it was exceedingly surreptitious indeed.

Life, as it does, went on. James West and Artemus Gordon continued to solve crimes and catch bad guys. And if either thought about Ecstasy La Joie to wonder how she had managed to pull off her disappearing act, neither chose to mention such thoughts to the other.

Months passed. And then one day a letter came in the mail. They were in Washington City at the time, their train parked in the railroad yards for the engine to undergo an overhaul.

"Undergoing an overhaul," Artie smirked at Jim. "Try saying that five times fast."

"I'll pass," said Jim. He was sitting at the desk sorting through the bundle of mail that had just arrived.

"Well," Artie mused, "I'll admit it's somewhat easier to say than 'fix the fake Phoenix, fix the fake Phoenix, fix the fake Phoenix'…"

Jim looked up from the letters. "What?"

"Hey, just a bit of alliteration you indulged in a while back. It stuck in my head as being a nice little tongue twister, that's all."

"Undergoing overhauls and fixing fake Phoenixes. You and your word play, Artie," Jim chuckled.

And then he froze. Artie, noticing, hurried over, all frivolity suddenly forsaken. "What's wrong, Jim?"

From the stack of letters Jim held up one, eying it suspiciously as if it might bite him. He turned it so Artie could see the address.

 _To Mr James West and Mr Artemus Gordon  
Adversaires Toujours _

"That's French for 'enemies forever,' " Artie exclaimed. He grabbed the letter and examined the envelope more closely. "Mailed from Paris, looks like."

"Yes, and smells like it too," Jim added, taking back the letter and slitting open the envelope. He extracted the folded sheet of paper from within and looked it over while Artie peered rather skeptically into the envelope.

"What are you looking for, Artie?" asked Jim.

"Just, y'know, checking for any postscripts."

"Ah. No need to look there; she wrote the postscripts — yes, two of them — directly on the letter this time. Here, read it for yourself." He passed over the cream-colored sheet redolent of Miss La Joie's sumptuous scent.

 _My dear enemies,_

 _I suppose you've despaired of finding me by now! I shouldn't brag, I know, but I had really a very easy time evading your agents to leave the country. For one thing, I didn't rush to make my exit but instead took my time, knowing that once the first week had passed, the urgency to find and capture me would have turned to puzzlement and incertitude. Where had the young lady gone? Had she slipped out through Canada or Mexico instead of taking ship in one of the major ports? And so once dubiety had reared its lovely head, along with the growing suspicion that I had long since left the shores of my erstwhile homeland, then it was quite easy for me to take a ship from Baltimore and sail for Europe. Why, a gallant young police officer even helped me aboard the ship, never guessing I was probably the most wanted woman in the Union!_

 _And why take ship from Baltimore of all places, you may well ask? Because I had some, shall we say,_ _ **business**_ _to take care of in that region of the country. The precise nature of that business I shan't tell you, though I will say that it is in fact not so much 'none of your business' as it is 'in every way your business'!_

 _But enough of that. A woman must have her secrets, mustn't she?_

 _All my best to your superiors, Col Richmond, Pres Grant, and so forth. All my worst to that terrible Baron Hinterstoisser and to the revolting Herr Vogel! Oh, and do give my love to dear Prof Montague, without whom none of my successfully completed business here in Europe would have been possible!_

 _As ever,  
Ever yours,  
Ecstasy_

 _PS_ — _I've often heard the phrase 'rolling in dough' (referring to money, of course), but I've never actually experienced it. Until now. How delightful!_

 _PPS_ — _Out of curiosity, would either of you know what the following symbol means?_

Artie squinted at the tiny scribble at the end of the second postscript. "It… it looks like…" He frowned, then pulled out his jewelers' loupe and screwed it into his eye. "Ah, that's better! It looks like… well, like a very poorly made letter _M_." He glanced over at Jim. "Why would she ask about…"

Jim leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on the ceiling. "Artie, you remember that day in Denver, how Prof Montague rambled on about the project Ecstasy forced him to work on, and how he told you he took a leaf from Michelangelo when he was finished?"

"Well, yeah, sure. He made a little mark on the underside of the fake Phoenix, sort of signing his work with his ini… Oh."

Jim was nodding. "With his own initial, a tiny scratching in the shape of an _M_."

Artie stared down at the letter from Miss La Joie, then slowly folded it up and tucked it back into its envelope before passing it back to Jim. "What, uh…" Artie swallowed hard. "What do you think we should do now?"

"Well…" Jim tapped the letter on his hand. "We could, of course, go over to the Smithsonian to have a look at the Florentine Phoenix that's still on display there, just to see if there's a tiny _M_ scratched on the bottom by the keyhole…"

"I don't wanna do that," Artie whispered hoarsely.

"Or we could hand this letter over to Col Richmond and let him decide."

"Yeah, there _is_ that…"

"Or maybe…" Jim glanced up at Artie and met his eye. "Or maybe we should just burn this letter and pretend we never saw it."

"Or, yeah, we could do tha… Jim! You're not serious, are you?"

Jim shot his partner a shocked look. "Do you think I would joke about a thing like this?" he asked, affronted.

"Well…" Again Artie swallowed hard, then dropped his eyes and shuffled his feet. "Actually, Jim… yeah, I think you would make exactly that sort of joke about a thing like this." He peeked at Jim, looking very much like a chastened puppy.

Jim grinned. "Yeah, you're right. I would make exactly that sort of joke, and in fact I did. C'mon, let's take the letter to Col Richmond."

Artie let out a sigh of relief. "All right. Good. Let's do that." He grabbed his hat and followed Jim out the door.

"And then," Jim added as they made their way across the railroad yards, "when he decides that the thing for us to do is burn the letter and pretend we never got it, _you_ get to supply him with the match."

"Jim!"

 **FIN**


End file.
